


Aay'han

by ChopsHitch



Series: House of Memories [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din starts to feel again, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mando is an identity now, Paz is dead but Din still defines himself by Paz, Reunion upcoming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29275881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChopsHitch/pseuds/ChopsHitch
Summary: It was done and buried.“You will find your way home,” She repeated firmly. “This is the Way.”As Din walked away, he felt nothing.Din takes the bounty which will change his life forever, along the way  he learns to open himself up again, and that a broken heart is a heart which can still beat.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla
Series: House of Memories [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059317
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	1. Ut'reeyah (Empty)

**Author's Note:**

> aay'han [AY-ye-haan] bittersweet perfect moment of mourning and joy - *remembering and celebrating*
> 
> We're finally moving forward, this fic won't be too long, a couple of chapters at most, leading up to the events which lead to Din and Paz being reunited like we know they are in canon. 
> 
> And knowing me, this will lead to lots of angst and rage. 
> 
> You're all welcome!

Something hadn’t felt right about the bounty from the start and if Din allowed himself to think about it, he would have been able to put his finger in the exact reason that this bounty seemed different to others. But Din didn’t allow himself to think anymore, hadn’t for years, probably not since Xi’an had called him Mando and he had never corrected her. He had built up an unreachable identity in Mando, allowing his armour and heritage to become him and Din, the frightened, helpless, weak child, had been buried under the surface of shiny, unblemished beskar. 

He accepted the bounty anyway, even though it was for _imps_ because anywhere was better than on the surface of Nevarro, where he had still never allowed himself to settle, had never picked out a home and made it his. Where he still kept his wary distance from the Covert because he hadn’t allowed himself to heal with them, part of him knew that he would never forgive them for what had happened to Paz; even though that had in no way been their fault and the blame solely rested on Paz’s cold, dead shoulders because he had been the one to change the plan. But even with all the years and the past buried on a glassed planet, it was always with Din, a chink in his armour that could be exploited if he stayed here with these people. He had been broken and defeated and they had rebuilt him; but this was his war wound to bare, and he did not want them poking and prodding it until he was raw and bleeding. 

He did enough of that when he was alone, in the safety of his ship, lost in hyperspace. 

He didn’t allow himself to think about the _wrongness_ of working for imps, telling himself that he was doing it for the pure beskar that had been raided from Mandalore, that had been taken while children had died in the streets, while Paz lay dead on the floor of an abandoned hangar. He told himself he was reclaiming his heritage, and if working with imps was the way to do it, as the Creed stated: This is the Way. 

The ends justified the means. Even if the means we’re making his body tense, and his mind scream at him that it wasn’t worth it. He had been able to turn off that voice easily, as easily as he had left Xi’an crying behind him while she declared that she loved him for all to hear. It had gotten much easier to ignore that voice of reason after that. 

If he were cold and heartless, he would not be hurt again. If he always left first, he could never be left. 

Another voice in his head repeatedly told him he was _damaged_ and _traumatised_. It was the voice of the Armourer, he knew deep in his heart, and she was telling him nothing she hadn’t told him when he was younger, when he was a different man, a different boy. 

When he was Din. 

Before he had left, he had gone to the Armourer, given her the deposit of the beskar the Imp had given him and watched as she melted it down and reforged it into something new. He had wondered whether she had felt she was doing the same task when she had guided and counselled him as a child and wondered when she had given up on reforging _him_. He didn’t ask and accepted the pauldron she held out to him, thanking her in his rusty Mando’a and his hoarse voice. 

“You will find your way back to us, Din.” She called out to him, as he walked away. He stopped his body from flinching as she said his name, reminding himself that this was a woman who _knew_ him; she had seen him at his worst and still found it in her heart to care for him, love him as if he was one of their own. 

He stopped in his tracks but said nothing in response to her. There was nothing to say, she was steadfast in her belief and faith that he was still grieving, still processing the trauma that they had worked through, when he had simply pushed it away and buried it deep enough that it quite cut him when he remembered his youth and woke up with Paz’s name on his lips. 

Maybe she hadn’t given up on him but was waiting for him to decide to rebuild himself. He wanted to laugh at her cruelly, and show her that he had rebuilt himself, had made himself stronger. He wanted to shake her until she could see it herself: his sharp edges were there on purpose, that people who got close got cut, and that was exactly as he had designed it; it was a deliberate choice and not some response to trauma, that she was likely to argue it was. He wanted her to accept that his rage was gone, and his heart broken, so when he had rebuilt himself from the ground up, he had left those parts behind and now he was an empty shell, but he was stronger for it, he could think clearer and breathe easier. 

But he thought that if he showed her all of that, instead of being proud and accepting, that he was the perfect warrior, perfect weapon, she would look at him with pity, that wouldn’t be hidden behind her helm, and her words would be soft but full of sorrow. He thought that she would start grieving for him and he didn’t need that from her; he had already mourned the Din he had left to die with Paz on Mandalore and no one else was needed to share that grief. 

It was done and buried. 

“You will find your way home,” She repeated firmly. “This is the Way.” 

As Din walked away, he felt nothing. 

The trip to Arvala-7 was quiet, forgettable and the first time since Din had seen the Armourer, he felt himself relax. While flying through hyperspace he knew that the _Razor Crest_ would always be his home and nothing else would be able to feel like this. Through this ship, he still had some connection with his buir, could still hear Nurink teach him to fly the ship, could hear him laugh in the galley and hold him close when he woke up from a nightmare disoriented. He wouldn’t have that with the new Covert, Nurink was not there and had never been there, there would be no warmth to offer. 

He had memories of Paz fucking him against the walls of the ship when he had first lost Nurink and had fallen into an abyss of suicidal bounties and sleeping on the ship. Paz had cut his hands on pieces of Din’s broken heart as he tried his best to put it back together, and had then lifted him up and held him tight as he fucked him into the wall and made him feel something other than overwhelming grief. 

The ship allowed him to be Din, in a way no other place could anymore. 

He became Mando again, as soon as he stepped off his ship onto Arvada-7, the familiar coldness creeping over his senses and blocking out the voice of reason that once again screamed at him that this bounty was wrong. 

As Mando, he had been content to meet his end by being eaten by a Blurrg until the old man had shown up and taken him in and Showed him a kindness he had not seen since the Mandalorians had first brought him home. Kuiil had spoken like a father, had sounded as defeated as Din felt and offered him tea and tales of the Mandalore of Old. While Kuiil spoke, Din closed his eyes, and he could hear Nurink telling him stories to lull him to sleep. When he opened them again, Kuiil had drifted from Mandalore to teaching him how to ride a Blurrg, watching him expectantly, as if Mandalorians should be experts at riding Blurrgs and laughing as he fell time and time again. He was once again reminded of Nurink and how he would laugh as he taught Din how to use a spear and watch as he struggled at first, laughing at him gently until he mastered it. 

Din felt a strange tug at his chest as Kuiil sent him off to retrieve his bounty and wondered whether Nurink would have watched him off on his first official bounty like that, waiting until he had disappeared from view until he went back home and waited for Din to return. He found that he wanted to secure this bounty for Kuiil as well, to give him the peace that he deserved and resolved himself to do this quickly for Kuiil’s sake. 

It was the first thing that felt right since he had taken the bounty. 


	2. A'den (wrath, rage)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If Paz were here to see him, he would hate what he had become; would hate how he had chosen to survive and resent who he was now, and Din would allow himself to laugh at the irony because he had shaped himself this way because of Paz. The person he was now was all Paz’s fault._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I updated, but life has been manic, I've been ill and behind in my university work! Please allow some of the creative licence I've taken with this chapter because I haven't actually done a third rewatch of the show yet!!

He’d survived. Again. 

It was becoming tedious at this point, he thought as he looked up at The Child. Something in this universe wanted him alive, went through insane efforts to ensure that he survived, even when his own body was screaming at him to _just give up._ If he closed his eyes, he could see Paz before him, holding out his hand and urging him to come with him. 

It was getting harder to deny. Paz always had control over him; Paz always had a way of making him obey and do things he didn’t want to do. 

The Child had cooed before it promptly passed out. Din sighed to himself, choosing once again to live and thrive and keep the ghost of Paz waiting for him. All he had to do was hand over this bounty, retrieve the beskar and return it to the Covert and then he could close his eyes, rest and be with Paz, just for a moment. 

Only for a moment. 

Paz was still dead, and he was still alive. The universe was cruel, unkind, and mocking, it was a lesson he had learnt at a young age and had never forgotten. When he was younger, he was angry and bitter but he was older now, still hopelessly bitter but resigned; the universe didn’t care about his rage any more than it cared about his happiness. 

His life was no longer about him; he was empty and heartless. The Child was a bounty, and he would hand it over, no questions asked and move on with his life, a skill he had once resented but had now mastered. A younger Din probably would have cared that it was a child, could have been a foundling - could have been like him - but he was older, and needs must. The Covert had no place for foundlings, not anymore, but it still had its pride, and he could return a small slither of it with the return of their beskar. 

When they were on the ship, and he had said his goodbyes to Kuiil, after practically begging him to join him because as much as he wanted to lie to himself, he had connected with Kuiil, understood him in ways he understood himself, and he didn’t want to lose the first genuine connection he had felt in years. Kuiil had declined, of course he had, he had his life here, owned a small portion of this world and didn’t need Din’s _brokenness_ infecting his happiness because he could see Din for what he was: broken. Din could respect it, and so said goodbye with only a small amount of pain but it was there, nonetheless. 

The Child looked up at him with big, knowing eyes, as if he could feel Din’s thoughts and understand them. He shut the pod, breaking the feeling that this Child truly _knew_ him and had seen every broken piece of Din that he had kept hidden and locked away behind the armour. He hadn’t felt that exposed since telling Paz his name, since opening himself up to Paz and giving him everything until there was nothing left to give, until Paz had died, and left him shattered and irreparable. 

He was nothing but a hollow shell, wrapped in beskar now. Everything mandokar about him had been destroyed when Paz had fallen all those years ago. He was a hut’unn but he was also a cuyan. He had survived the impossible and was somehow still going. 

The Child was another bounty, he reminded himself, a price to be paid to reclaim a part of his heritage, but as he handed The Child over, a deep part of him acknowledged the wrongness of the transaction. The Mandalorian’s valued foundlings over everything, foundlings were the future, but it was hard to believe in a future when the Covert was hidden under ground, without a future insight; there were no plans to become anything more than they were now, surviving but not thriving. The weight of beskar in his hands felt more real than a fleeting vision of a future where Mandalorian’s would no longer have to hide. 

A child was still more valuable than beskar but it was easy to pretend he had made the right choice. 

He was putting the Covert first, like Paz had done all those years before; choosing the Covert over him, and now he was repaying that, choosing the Covert over a child. 

An innocent child. 

An almost foundling. 

Over a future. 

There had been murmurings in the shadows since he had returned from the Imp’s place, but he ignored them, the beskar weighing him down with every step and his conversation with Greef haunting him; he had never asked questions before, had never been particularly bothered one way or the other what happened to a bounty once he had handed it over, but all this screamed different, screamed wrong wrong _wrong_. The Armourer would understand his intentions when he explained them to her, for she had always understood him best, she would be able to ease his worries and reassure him that the beskar was worth the price he felt he had just paid. 

If Paz were here to see him, he would hate what he had become; would hate how he had chosen to survive and resent who he was now, and Din would allow himself to _laugh_ at the irony because he had shaped himself this way because of Paz. The person he was now was all Paz’s fault. 

The Armourer wasn’t alone, there was a group of heavy infantry with her and he felt himself sigh. He had wanted to be alone with her, wanted to tell her what had happened and wanted her to tell him why he felt the way he did without an audience. They didn’t look up to acknowledge him, but the Armourer stepped away from them as if ready to greet him. He threw the beskar at her feet wordlessly, already slipping back into old habits when feeling cornered and surprised. 

One of the heavy infantry turned to look at the beskar and then turn to look at him and his breath caught in his throat because he was seeing a ghost. The Armourer before him was freshly painted, blue because _his_ armour had always been blue, like his father’s before him and he felt glued to the spot, unable to move as the ghost approached him. 

The ghost moved past him and picked up the beskar, distain tainting the once heavenly voice as he pointed out the imperial stamp, throwing it back down onto the pile is disgust. He didn’t hear the Armourer’s words, trying to focus on his breathing, on the feeling of the anger creeping down his spine because there was no way that Paz Vizsla was standing in front of him. 

There was no way that Paz Vizsla had survived the purge of Mandalore, the Night of One Thousand Tears and had _not_ come to find him. There was no way that he had survived and let Din believe he was dead because the Paz from his memories was kind, not cruel; the Paz from his memories would never have let him turn into this. 

He spoke again, his voice still bitter and jaded, he either didn’t recognise Din or didn’t care. Din knew his voice was tougher than when he was younger, raspier from misuse and he was taller, bulkier from when Paz would have seen him last, but there was no way Paz would recognise a blank pauldron, a man with no clan and a bounty hunter. Paz would know him, Paz would always know him and in this moment, Paz didn’t care. 

War changed people, Din knew, saw the effect that war had on him when he dared to look in his mirror. He remembered that war had changed Paz into a liar, and maybe survival had twisted him into something bitter and cruel. 

The anger wrapped itself around his heart and his knife was held at Paz’s throat before his mind had processed Paz’s words. Paz had called him a coward and he felt his knife falter because war had done one last thing to Paz, and it hurt the most. 

War had allowed Paz to see Din for what he truly was. 

Paz’s knife was at his own throat, Din could feel a slight tremor in the blade. And then the blade was lowered, and Din stormed out of the forge, leaving Paz, the beskar and the Armourer behind him. 

He felt betrayed. 

He wanted to kill them, wanted to kill Paz because _he wasn’t dead,_ and he wanted to kill the Armourer because she would have known. She had to have known and she had said nothing to him, had let him believe that Paz was gone. 

But Paz was back; Paz was alive and for the first time in years, Din felt a flicker in his chest, like the beat of a heart. 

Din felt hopeful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO...They reunited....I mean....It's not good is it? Where can it go from here? Can they make things better than before or do they part ways here? Dun Dun Dun...
> 
> Answers on a postcard please!!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome and encouraged! Hit me up on tumblr, hopeless-heartbreak.tumblr.com, if you want to talk to me or give me suggestions on what you want to see, give me fic prompts or any other suggestions!! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! 💕


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